13. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Isabella
W e step up onto the empty stage, the huge red curtains muffling the sound of chatter from our guests.
“Why are we on stage? Everyone already knows what’s going on.”
Callum checks the pulley for the curtains before turning to face me with a bored look in his cold eyes.
“It’s a formality. Two crime families don’t unite every day, you know.” A draft flows through the open space and seems to remind Callum of something. “Stay here. I need to get your father and my sister. It’s important we all appear together.”
“He’s probably measuring the knife for your back.”
Callum gives me a tight-lipped smile, utterly unimpressed by the comment.
“Nothing I’m not used to.”
He doesn’t wait for my reply, disappearing through the curtain to fetch the others.
I pace back and forth, every inch of my body fidgeting out the frustration. I’ve taken two steps before I kick a podium in the centre of the stage with all my strength.
“Ow. Fuck.” Pain shoots through my foot. I hate these shoes. Why can’t I wear something that doesn’t expose two thirds of my feet? The one time I bought a pair of docs, my dad set fire to them and made me watch because they weren’t “lady-like.” The next day, my brother got a pair just to rub it in.
With a huff, I drop onto the edge of the stage and kick my legs like a girl at the edge of a bridge. Life is flying around me and I have no control over it. I trace my finger along the edge of the stage.
Will this speech be the last time I “perform” on stage?
I don’t get the impression Callum is the musical type. After we marry, I’ll be expected to immerse myself with the Irish. That probably means dropping my role at the opera. It definitely means an end to singing at bars with Bianca, but that was finished the moment we went to The Tsarina.
I never should have gone.
Nikolai’s face springs back into my mind, and I feel a spike of anger in my body. I should tell Callum he’s here, make that idiot suffer some consequences. I should have pushed him into my dad the moment I saw his stupid Russian head. We’ve barely had three conversations, and he’s successfully ruined my life.
The curtain opens in front of me and, as if he can hear me thinking of him, Nikolai emerges in front of me. Shock flutters across his face for a split second before returning to the dark gaze he always has trained on me.
“No.” I blurt out as I jump to my feet. “I told you to leave. You’ve done enough.” I backtrack away from him across the stage.
Nikolai follows my steps slowly. “Stop running from me and listen.”
I narrow my eyes at him, suddenly aware this is the first time we’ve been alone since my last performance at the opera.
“I don’t understand you.” I spit back at him.
“Then let me explain.” His deep voice rumbles around the stage as he approaches me.
Cautiously, I allow an inch of my guard to drop. I take a single step towards him. “Fine.” He cocks his head, as if he’s expecting more than a one-word answer. “We don’t have forever, my fiance will be back soon.”
His gaze darkens at the word fiance, and I feel a rumble of butterflies in my stomach. Callum’s a powerful man, but I can never imagine him walking away from a fight with Nikolai alive.
“Don’t provoke me, princess.”
His presence makes me feel small, delicate. I suck in a sharp breath to hold my composure. Nikolai folds his arms and drums his fingers, rolling over the thoughts in his head.
“I’m here because I don’t want you marrying that butcher. You got caught because you were looking for me, right?”
“I was looking for the man watching me from box three.”
Frustration flashes through his eyes. “Why? Why put yourself at risk like that for someone you’ve never met? Someone who told you specifically not to follow him? What were you thinking?”
“I was curious! I don’t get to meet my stalker every day!”
“I wasn’t stalking you.” He growls back.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t meet the guy who spies on me from the shadows. Is that better?”
With every word, we’re inching closer, our voices getting louder.
“Why do you have to fight me? I came here to help you.”
I shove my finger into his huge, firm chest. “I didn’t ask for your help. I can handle this myself.”
Nikolai’s furious gaze pours into me, but I refuse to bend.
“The last time you said that, I had to knock out two men.”
“And I had it handled.” I say stubbornly. Nikolai’s cologne pulls me in, trying to distract me from the moment. Then he scoffs, and I remember how he’s just fucked over my entire life. “Even if you are here to help me, there’s nothing you can do! I’m engaged to Callum O’Shea, the head of the Irish mafia. What can possibly be done to change this situation?”
Nikolai reaches out, swallowing my hands in his huge paws. His touch sends a wave of calm through my body, the anxiety that has been eating me all week dying in his deep green eyes.
“Come with me.”
His voice sounds so sincere, but it doesn’t make sense. It’s impossible. Why would this man risk so much just for me?
“That would start a war.”
“A war is already coming. It might not start today, but my family and yours have been teetering on the edge of violence for years.”
My heart thunders in my chest as his hands squeeze mine, and he pulls me closer to him. But then, reality checks me - as it has a habit of doing. I snatch my hands back from his.
“You’re asking me to put so much faith in you when I don’t even know you. I can’t do that. I have to make my own decision.”
I turn my back to him and take a step away, but he appears in front of me and blocks my path. How can a man so big be so fast and quiet on his feet?
“Nikolai, move.”
I shove him back with all my strength, but it does nothing. He doesn’t even budge.
“You say you want to make your own decision?” He steps into me and I step back with him, the beginning of an intricate dance. “But is Callum O’Shea your decision? Or is it your father’s?”
I open my mouth to protest, but find no words I can hurl back.
“Was the opera your choice? Was sneaking away with Bianca your choice? Or were they consolations you accepted because you weren’t given a choice?”
He keeps moving forward, backing me all the way across the stage, until my ass brushes up against the podium.
“Shut up.” I hiss up at him.
“Why? Because the princess with a sharp tongue can’t handle the truth?”
I step into him, grabbing back an inch of space.
“Stop calling me princess. I’m more than my father’s daughter.”
His eyes flash, but that dark gaze never leaves me.
“You told me you don’t belong to anyone.” He whispers as his arms cage me in against the podium.
“I don’t.” I snap back.
“Prove it.” An infuriating smugness floats across his face.
I slap him as hard as I can. He doesn’t flinch, taking the full force of the slap without moving an inch. My heart pounds harder in my chest as I look up at the killer in front of me. A red flush lines the left side of his face, and I wonder if his skin is hot to the touch.
We breathe heavily in unison, falling into our own world. Will he hit me back? Will he walk away? What’s running through his mind behind those flashing green eyes?
“I didn't…”
I don’t speak another word. I can't.
His hands find my face, cupping my jaw and pulling me into him. His lips crash into mine, and my heart thunders into overdrive. I resist, I freeze…. Then I close my eyes and I let go. I kiss him back.
I forget about everything around me. I leave the things that make sense and kiss him like we’ve just set the world on fire.
His soft lips pull away from mine, and I open my eyes slowly.
Something’s changed, and it’s not just the distribution of my lipstick. I don’t notice at first, but the murmur of chatter from behind the curtain has fallen into a deep silence.
Bright light pours onto my face, and when I look up, the curtains are raised. My skin flushes with horror and embarrassment as I see the open mouths of all the guests staring at us.
“Isabella!” My father lets out a howl, his face contorting into a demonic fury. Callum stands next to my father, his expression exactly the same as when I last spoke to him.
There’s no going back from this.